


Fall Of The Fabled House

by solitariusvirtus, tenten_d



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amorality, Drabble-esque, Dubious Morality, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Fractured Fairy Tale, Heirs, Immorality, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jumbled Chronology, Medieval Society, Middle Ages, Miscarriage, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Murder, Poisoning, Prophecy, Queen Cersei - Freeform, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, Vignettes Collection, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenten_d/pseuds/tenten_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei Lannister weds her King and her fall is that much greater.</p><p>AU! Lyanna Stark finds that revenge is sweet, especially when it fells all enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a

“I don’t like this.” Benjen hands her the foul-smelling draught nonetheless, his face white with fear. “This has gone far enough. What do you hope to accomplish?” Being mayhap her greatest supporter, with her through thick and thin, it comes as a shock that he would protest. He of all people. “The King cannot have been fooled.”

But his interest had been piqued. Lyanna doesn’t necessarily expect her brother to understand at this point. She herself teeters on the verge, never quite certain if the man is seeing what she wants him to see or if she is the one being used. Yet even if it is that the King makes what he wishes of her, Lyanna cannot give up. Not now, after all the hard work.

“Sister, what is this about?” His hand touched hers softly, fingers pressing gently into the smooth flesh. He watches her drink, mood darkening considerably. Benjen, not the most patient of persons, shifts slightly, concern bleeding into something else entirely, 

The she-wolf toys with the idea of telling him everything, to the very last detail. But as soon as the notion forms it is gone as well, for as much as she loves her brother, Lyanna knows him to be the sort who would not relent and accept her scheme. He would mayhap even tell Rhaegar. And that she cannot have. Instead she hands him the now empty cut and rests her own hand atop of his, patting it gently. “One day I shall tell you.”

The promise rings false. Benjen pulls away with a savage gesture and sits up, eyes blazing. His hand moved to her shoulder, gripping her tightly. “Gods be good, but I do not think I know you any longer.” Pain plays upon his features, fingers digging further into her shoulder.

‘Tis not that she had changed all that much, Lyanna thinks, shrugging his hold away with a delicate roll of the shoulders. Benjen has known a playmate and a friend. Never has he had Lyanna for his enemy. That he should find odd to see her in such a posture is not something which surprises. For his sake however, she shrugs. “Time leaves a mark.” Lyanna sincerely hopes he will be better for it. “We are not children any longer.”

The words fall between them like heavy weights, Sister and brother stare at one another, one with unabashed calm, the other with frenzied confusion. Might be they are not meant to understand one another. What Lyanna can do and does is to see her plan through and hope for the best. So she eases herself back against the mountain of pillows and makes herself comfortable. The underlying satisfaction proves more than enough for the moment. 

She hears the door open and close but does not look its way. Benjen will come back at some point. He always does. In the meantime, Lyanna rehearses her lines. Success is close at hand. The she-wolf lifts the coverings gingerly. Satisfied with what she sees, she allows the covers to fall back into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bare minimum here: collection of drabbles btw 500-1000 w, following a plot crafted by one Lyanna Stark. The catch: the drabbles are not in chronological order.
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think.


	2. b

Cersei laughs softly, her golden curls falling over one shoulder. There is a softness to her now that seems new and unexpected. Jaime would think that with the demands of royal life his sister would crumble or at the very least crack. But the Queen merely places her hand on his arm. “You worry too much. Only do as I say and we shall never be parted.”

She leans in and affectionately touches his left cheek with hers. The smooth skin brushing against his is almost as a kiss. But not quite. It seems an eternity since she has kissed him. But Cersei has always known how to compensate. After all, his twin still wills him by her side. As Queen, however, she places a distance between them.

“I do not know,” Jaime says, looking with some worry to the lancet through which the sunlight spills in. “Father would not like this one bit.” In fact, Tywin is not at all pleased that he has chosen to come to the tourney. Mainly for the fact that it has caused Lord Stark further expense in sending his own daughter to Harrenhal as well.

“Do you truly wish to wed that girl then?” his sister teases, green eyes sparkling with mirth. Directed at the unfortunate Lyanna Stark and the poor choices her father has made for her. Cersei already knows that the only one he wants is her. His twin coos softly. “Never say you’ve changed your mind now, brother.”

“Not at all,” the young knight hurries to deliver the assurance. “Lyanna Stark holds no appeal to me.” He’s caught a glimpse of her and by the Seven, but she seems like the sort sooner to gallivant about the fields than actually be of any help, what with the windswept hair and loud bickering with her brother.   
It is better this way, Jaime tells himself. He will remain at Cersei’s side, together as they’d always been. “Mayhap father shall offer Tyrion in your place,” his sister titters. “Can you imagine?” Clearly, she is enthralled by the idea. “The mare and the dwarf. I daresay the mummers should make a show of this. I will be the very first.”

A brief, half-smile makes its way on Jaime’s face at the jest. Father would not offer Tyrion to Lyanna Stark or her father. If anything, the Lannister patriarch will demand the wedding take place. Such a union is, for some off reason Jaime cannot begin to fathom, appealing to his lord father. The North, hardly the best of allies, has so very little to offer. “It would be best if Lady Lyanna returned to her beloved North,” he managed in the end. Whatever her choice, he does not feel compelled to think more upon the matter. “But enough of this. You said there is news you wish to share.”

“News that shan’t fail to brighten your mood.” Cersei laughs sweetly. “I am carrying.” The words break over his head painfully. Jaime reels back in shock, entirely unwelcome in this instance. It should have occurred to him, truthfully. “Pycelle confirmed it” 

The very thought that something so intimate is impinged on by a third party is sickening. Alas, he can do little but stare wide-eyed at Cersei. It seems that his lord father shall get his wish after all. A little lion for the Iron Throne. And all of this to spite a dead man. If only he could laugh at it. But he finds that the laughter is stuck in his throat, allowing only for a half-hearted chuckle. 

Jaime stands to his feet and bends over his sister’s hand.


End file.
